


your love, between the tides

by aminami



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Divergence If You Squint, Depression, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, P5R Spoilers, Post-Canon, Recovery, based on the deleted scene, sexual content but nothing graphic, summer festival just to lighten things up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25794904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminami/pseuds/aminami
Summary: After escaping Maruki's reality, Akechi finds himself seeking shelter in the same place that once helped his mother, keeping himself busy with whatever work he can find.What he doesn't expect is a reunion that gives him a chance to make amends, revisit his past, reconsider his future, and lose himself in the sea.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 33
Kudos: 330





	your love, between the tides

**Author's Note:**

> The title is loosely inspired by a song, link in the notes below.

There’s a melody he can hear very clearly, as it’s carried through the wind through the open window.

He stays in his bed, silent and unmoving, knowing full well that the song will end the moment he opens his eyes. He doesn’t always allow himself the indulgence to listen, but it’s not like he has anything better to do now.

The tune seems to be a part of the wind itself, the notes chasing each other, and tugging on his sleeve, like playful children, inviting him to join in on the fun. He knows he could easily let himself get carried away, but he never finds the courage to do so.

Akechi opens his eyes and the music dies down.

It always takes a while to fully hit him.

He does not recall a single day of his life when he didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of anger bubbling under his skin. Until now, it was something he could easily deal with, focusing his hatred on a singular person, and channeling his spite into work. It was easy to ignore any other feelings that could have made him stray from his path. He never realized just how easy living used to be, despite all the terrible things that happened.

Right now, Goro Akechi feels absolutely empty.

In the center, there isn’t any particular work to speak of, and yet there’s always something to be done. There’s physical work that he’s not used to, but at least no one cared if he ended up spouting profanities under his breath, as he felt his sweaty shirt stick to his back from working all day in the sunlight. That’s why he kept signing up for anything that could occupy his hands – cleaning, gardening, small house repairs. He even ended up helping with harvesting tea leaves for an amount of money that under normal circumstances would have made him laugh in disbelief.

These weren’t normal circumstances.

He still doesn’t know why he decided to knock on the center’s door on that faithful December night. He could do that or hand himself to the police, where he would undoubtedly be detained for being Shido’s accomplice. If the prosecution played their cards right, he could even be charged with murder, and it was highly unlikely he would still be tried as a minor. Receiving a death sentence alongside his father, while ironic, was the last thing on his mind.

He needed a place to lie low for a while, but the only person in his life who could offer him help was being locked away in a detention center.

And so, he came back to the one place that he _wanted_ to forget. The place that still lingered in his mind, tucked away alongside the memories of his mother.

He chose to forget a lot of things.

The old apartment building where they used to live together was long torn down. Akechi often imagined wrecking balls destroying the thin walls once tainted with his mother’s blood, and he wondered if the crew could possibly imagine just how much happened in that very building.

Was the apartment ever cleaned up? Or did no one even attempt to rent out a place that witnessed such a tragedy?

He doesn’t remember much from that day, but using his connections as a detective, he did find the police report from the scene. Supposedly, the cops came after their neighbor made a call to the station, saying he heard a child screaming from the nearby apartment. The screaming stopped after an hour. It took a long time for the police to get there. No one checked on the child beforehand, and the child didn’t call for an ambulance. He probably forgot the number in shock. At least, according to the police report.

When the police came in, they saw a young boy hugging his mother’s lifeless body, his eyes closed shut. At first, they thought the boy was dead as well, as he remained motionless. He was covered in her blood, pressing one of her open wrists to his own chest. He only woke up as they moved closer to examine the body, screaming as they tried to detach him from his mother’s corpse.

Akechi doesn’t remember that either. It could very well have happened to someone else.

Yet for some reason, he did remember the center, and the kindness they showed him and his mother when everyone else turned their backs on them. His grandparents were long dead by then, his grandfather supposedly dying from shame after his daughter announced she was pregnant. His wife followed soon after.

Every step of Akechi’s life seems to be drenched in somebody’s blood.

He never experienced a lot of kindness from other people. The only kindness he knew usually entailed other people trying to get something out of him – be it his fake TV personality, his skill, even the supposedly noble Phantom Thieves who simply wanted him out of the picture. He’s always been just a means to an end.

So he remembered this place. The one place where he was offered kindness without anyone expecting anything in return. But it’s not in his nature to simply accept such kindness. In his mind, there was still a debt that he needed to repay. In exchange for shelter, he ended up working – even when the government came knocking, the same people protected him once again. He obediently assisted them with their investigation, but once it became painfully apparent just how useless he was without his Persona, they let him go. In the end, even a cell would have been a waste on someone like him.

He came to the cell of his own choosing.

There was another person who showed him kindness. Another debt to be repaid. No matter how many times he told himself he didn’t owe him anything, he still chose to testify when Sae Nijima reached out to him. She was the only person who knew where he was, after all. His own involvement in getting Akira out of the detention center was kept off the record, and undoubtedly, he would never hear from the man again. There is at least some freedom in being dead after all.

In the end, his entire life comes down to a painful realization that he has nowhere to run, having already lost everything. He could never understand people who were simply able to return _home_ , having something or someone waiting for him. That’s why he chose to lie low at a place where he could at least be needed for _something_. Even if that something involves getting a heat stroke from working in the sun all day.

Bringing him to today.

He’s getting dressed when he hears a soft knock on his door.

“Akechi-kun,” a gentle voice says. “We have some new arrivals today. That includes some volunteers, so I’ll be expecting you to guide them. You’re the best one we have.”

Which roughly translates to – please be on your best behavior, we don’t want to be ashamed.

“Understood,” he says, fixing his ponytail in the mirror.

She sounds relieved, almost as if she expected him to say no. “Great, they should be here around noon. If you could greet them with me at the front gate, I’d be most grateful.”

He simply hums in response, examining his own reflection, as her steps die down in the hallway.

The bags under his eyes are growing increasingly darker, despite the fact that perhaps for the first time in his life, he’s getting a decent amount of sleep. And yet, upon waking up he never feels fully rested. He never remembers his dreams – if there are any – and yet even the sight of his own bed makes him anxious as if there was a nightmare waiting there for him the moment he closes his eyes. At the same time, sleep remains one of the very few things he could do to kill time, and he does need strength to continue with physical work every day.

He did gain some weight at least. Or perhaps, it’s just muscle.

He comes down the stairs, joining the staff in the dining hall. The noises of the many conversations carried out across the table echo in his own head as he does his best to ignore them, forcing himself to eat the simple breakfast. It’s bland, but it’s still better than anything he used to prepare for himself at his own apartment – if he ate at all – but there’s a distant memory of Leblanc’s curry every time he sees the others fill their cups with the most disgusting liquid that has no business calling itself coffee.

The last time he had coffee was still in that coffee shop. With Akira’s eyes on him as he took every sip.

He focuses on the slightly overcooked rice. He senses an upcoming headache.

After breakfast, he offers to help with the dishes, though perhaps ‘offer’ is a word that could hardly apply to his language. Most of the time, he just goes wherever he suspects work might be needed and gets on with the task. At first, the staff gave him strange looks, but they quickly decided it was probably best to leave him to his own devices. He made plenty of mistakes with everything he possibly could – he wasn’t used to physical work, struggling with even the most basic chores. He was on his own most of his whole life, but due to the nature of his job, he never had the time to cook dinners or clean his own apartment.

At the best of times, he had a housekeeper cleaning his house while he was gone, but she was never around otherwise, so he just ate whatever he could easily microwave.

Helping around in the kitchen takes care of most of his morning. Before he knows it, he’s being called to the front gate, as he stands uselessly next to his co-workers, waiting for the bus with new arrivals.

He feels uneasy, though he can’t find a real reason for his discomfort. He did hate meeting new people, even if his own identity remained undiscovered. Despite being a famous celebrity, people stopped recognizing him soon enough. So it’s not like he’s worried about someone asking if he’s the young detective that used to be on TV a lot. Yet, there’s that feeling again that makes the hair on the back on his neck stand up, his well-developed instincts unable to rest even for a moment, as he watches the bus pull over in the driveway.

He watches the people leaving the bus, forcing himself to bow ever so slightly as they pass next to him. The woman who used to take care of him and his mother is gathering the few volunteers that decided to spend their summer helping out at the center, as she smiles and talks so loudly he can easily hear her from the distance. His headache grows just a little stronger.

And that’s when he sees him.

He doesn’t know what kind of face he makes as he meets Akira’s eyes, but if Akira’s reaction is any indication, he must look like a cornered animal.

He doesn’t wait for Akira to make a move.

He excuses himself, ignoring the familiar voice calling ‘Akechi?’, as he runs back to the building.

Running makes him feel stupid. Akechi never runs – according to him, it’s a pointless relict of some primal instincts, and humans should be better than that. That’s why bikes and other means of transportations were invented so that people wouldn’t have to use their legs to move around.

And yet he keeps running, until he’s out on the other side of the building, through the gate leading to the garden. He finds himself completely out of breath, sweat dripping from his forehead. He can barely control himself, feeling as if there was some strong force pressing down on his chest, stopping his lungs from transferring the oxygen into the bloodstream. He can’t stop shaking, and his hands are almost vibrating as he grips the front of his shirt, trying to separate himself from anything that might make him feel like he’s feeling choked.

He never experienced a panic attack first-hand. There simply wasn’t anything that made him _feel_ enough to trigger it.

His mother used to get panic attacks a lot, something tells him. Not that he knew what they were back then.

Somehow, the suddenly discovered memory shocks him enough to help him calm down. The anxiety is quickly replaced by anger, running through his veins like wildfire. He flips over the nearby bench, throwing himself around like a caged animal. He fully realizes that the amount of noise he’s making is bound to summon someone from the staff here, but at that moment he doesn’t care who sees him, as he lets his anger and hatred channel itself into pure destruction.

_Why._

_Why did he come here out of all places?_

He almost breaks a broom in half, when a silent voice catches his off guard.

“Do you really hate me that much?”

Akechi feels stupid.

Akira’s standing at the entrance to the garden, slightly slouched with his hands inside his pockets, clearly unsure what to do with himself.

He looks healthier than Akechi remembers him looking – and unlike Akechi he seems well-rested, and slightly thinner, maybe even taller. His hair is slightly longer too, the fringe completely covering one of his eyes. He’s not wearing his stupid glasses either.

The broom digs painfully into his palms from how hard he is gripping the handle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was about to start sweeping.”

He hopes he at least sounds nonchalant, but it’s never been easy to fool Akira Kurusu.

“It looked to me as if you were imagining that broom is my spine,” he says as if he’s talking about the weather. He takes one cautious step closer. “I’m glad to see you’re still alive and kicking. Literally.”

“Why are you here?”

He doesn’t care for small talk. He just wants answers. Akira seems to come to the same conclusion. “I’m one of the volunteers. And believe me or not, I had no idea you’d be here. They told me it would be good for me to accept some volunteer work to clean up my record before going to college. That’s all this is.”

“Leader of the Phantom Thieves started thinking about his academic career?” Akechi snorts. “Now that’s some irony at its best.”

“Ex-leader,” Akira corrects him. “You got one question, now it’s my turn. What are _you_ doing here?”

The broom makes a strange sound under his clenched fingers. “Waiting for the storm to pass. This place seems as good as any.”

“Oh,” Akira looks disappointed. “And here I was hoping you were getting some help.”

There’s always been something about those eyes that made even him spill the most private of thoughts that he wouldn’t dare to share with anyone else. His shoulders relax a little.

“Once upon a time, these people happened to help me and my mother. There’s a debt to be paid, and I’m not one to avoid responsibility. And they’re letting me stay here for free in exchange for my work, which is a plus.”

“So you’re making amends.”

Akechi winces at the word. “If you want to call it that. Don’t expect me to repay you anything. I don’t owe you shit. I already did all I could to get you out of that facility.”

He forgets to bite his tongue.

“I was hoping you helped,” Akira admits. “Of course, I didn’t know if you were still alive. Not after everything that happened in Maruki’s reality. And since I was the one detained instead of you, I just assumed…”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to get arrested for the second time,” Akechi interrupts him, his brain desperately looking for a way out of the conversation. “Shouldn’t you go back to your briefing? Don’t expect me to guide you just because we know each other.”

Akira dodges the question, with grace as he always does. “Why didn’t you tell me you were alive? Why did you keep it all a secret?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Just answer me.”

“If I do, do you promise to leave me alone?”

Akira smiles wryly, “Cross my heart.”

A thief’s word should not be taken seriously, yet it’s the only chance he’s got.

“There’s only one thing more peaceful than death,” Akechi says, leaning on the broom. “And that’s everyone you’ve ever known believing you’re gone.”

“So you didn’t want to see me?”

Akechi forces himself to look Akira straight in the eyes to make sure his message is heard loud and clear. “Look, I have nothing to say to you. There’s no reason for us to be friends – we teamed up before because we had a common purpose. It’s all taken care of, you and your buddies get your happily ever after. You owe me nothing and vice versa. Is this what you wanted to hear?”

“You had no reason to talk to me at that TV station when we met.” Akira’s stubborn as ever. “But you did. You can cut the crap.”

“I already had my suspicions about you then,” he clarifies. “Of course, I didn’t know you were the leader of the Phantom Thieves. But I had every reason to believe you at least came into contact with the group, and I was already conducting my own investigation. It had to be the case since you felt so strongly about the subject. A regular high schooler wouldn’t have said the things you did.”

“Is that really the truth?”

“Does it matter?” He shrugs. “There’s nothing to be done about it now.”

Akira’s silver tongue seems to be reaching its limit. But Akechi still doesn’t expect him to just give up.

Akira sighs, crouching on the ground, as he lets his hands cover his eyes in an act of utter helplessness. Akechi instinctively flinches at the sight of his vulnerability – something no one would expect of the same person who used to be the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

Akechi doesn’t understand what’s the point of getting upset over such a little thing.

“You don’t need to pretend you care,” he says bitterly. “I’m very well aware of how _noble_ you are.”

“Is it really so surprising?” Akira asks, voice strained. “That seeing you makes me feel like _this_ , considering I thought you died? Lest you forget, I was the one who made the decision, and there hasn’t been a day when I wouldn’t doubt myself, wondering if I really did the right thing. You just don’t get it, none of you did. I felt like your blood was on my hands and my hands alone. And there you are, alive and breathing, fucking sweeping leaves in a garden in the middle of fucking nowhere, while I spent months feeling like a piece of shit.”

It was probably the most profanities he’s ever heard from Akira in a single sentence.

He doesn’t know what to say.

“But this isn’t about me,” Akira shakes his head, standing up. “I really am glad you’re safe. I just… I guess it was naïve of me to expect that what we went through at Maruki’s Palace changed things between us. I will no longer disrupt your _important_ work.”

“Wait.”

He’s surprised to hear his own voice.

As Akira looks at him expectantly, he realizes there isn’t anything that he wants to say anyway. What could you say to someone who showed you so much kindness when you’ve caused them nothing but grief? Who was kind enough to forgive you despite everything you’ve done? Who witnessed you at your worse, but is still happy to see you alive?

The words are there, somewhere at the back of his throat, but he can’t force them out.

“I didn’t forget about our promise,” he says instead.

Akira’s eyes widen at that.

He takes a step closer, and then another after that. He really is approaching a wild animal after all. When he’s sure that Akechi won’t run away again, he closes the distance between them to pull him into a hug.

Akechi hasn’t been so close to another human body since his mother died.

Akira’s touch is like cancer spreading through his body, claiming every cell as its own. As he lets Akira hold him, Akechi thinks there’s nothing he would want more than to cut himself open and get rid of it. 

* * *

They fall into a routine.

To his relief, they rarely see each other outside of the dining hall. The volunteers are way too busy with tasks that don’t necessarily involve physical work, and Akechi is even more grateful than usual to have a job that doesn’t require too much thinking. He sticks to the shadows, heading straight towards his room after a hard day’s work, and when Akira sees him, he doesn’t do anything other than say his hellos. During meals they sit at the same table, but neither of them speaks.

It’s almost like their conversation never happened, and Akechi can at least appreciate Akira’s effort to give him some space.

In the end, they’re not able to avoid each other forever.

It’s only been a week since the volunteers came to the center when the manager asks him to show Akira the ropes with more serious tasks.

“He seems like a healthy young man,” she says. “He shouldn’t have issues with physical work. We’d rather let the girls do the lighter tasks, you see, and he’s the only boy among the group.”

Akechi doesn’t have much choice but to comply. He meets Akira outside.

Akira is eerily quiet as Akechi explains their plan for the day – the fence in the garden is all but falling apart, and he really did need help if he wanted to get it done by the end of the summer. Akira is a quick learner, and he only asks questions related to the task at hand but doesn’t speak otherwise. They work together in comfortable silence until the sun sets down, and Akechi tells him to go join the others in the dining hall.

Akira looks conflicted, as he wipes his dirty hands on the front of his shirt, clearly unsure if it’s okay for him to talk. “You won’t be eating with us today?”

“I’ll sneak into the kitchen if I’m hungry,” Akechi shakes his head. “But I think I might just take a bath and go straight to bed.”

“I see,” Akira replies simply. “In that case, have a good night.”

Back in his room, Akechi’s unable to get even one wink of sleep. Akira’s dry voice keeps resurfacing in his thoughts like a very stubborn visitor, constantly knocking on the front door in the middle of the night. The feeling is contrasted by the ghost of his touch still present upon his skin, like a curse, which in itself is enough to drive him crazy.

He sneaks out of bed, putting his clothes back on.

It must be around 2 am, and everyone seems to be fast asleep. He walks through the corridors like his own shadow, unsure where his own feet are leading him until he stops.

Akechi finds himself back in the garden, and somehow Akira is still there. He doesn’t even pretend to be surprised at this point, considering the number of coincidences that already happened so far. Akira’s sitting on the bench, reading a book. There’s enough light from the nearby lamppost to make it possible for him to read, though it still seems like reading in his own room could have been a smarter idea.

Akira doesn’t move or speak as Akechi sits down next to him, but he notices that Akira’s eyes stopped following the text. Akechi looks over his shoulder to read the passage he was reading, squinting at the small letters.

_“When was it I realized that, on this truly dark and solitary path we all walk, the only way we can light is our own? Although I was raised with love, I was always lonely…”_

“You might need glasses,” Akira points out, stopping him mid-sentence. “You don’t want to go blind, do you?”

“Says a guy reading a book in the shittiest lighting,” Akechi retorts. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked you first.”

Akira sighs, clearly unwilling to continue their childish charade. He puts the book down, staring into space instead. “I can’t sleep here, it’s too quiet. Even my hometown is louder than this. I feel like the silence is drilling into my skull. And there’s not enough air coming through the window.”

Akechi wonders if it’s the same reason why he’s never able to feel fully rested here either. He spent most of his life in the city, after all. He briefly thinks about the melody he’s been hearing every morning and realizes he hasn’t heard it once since Akira came to the center.

“I don’t know about quiet,” he says conversationally. “The cicadas are enough to drive anyone crazy in my opinion.”

 _I’m not used to you being quiet_ , Akechi wants to say.

“Even they seem quieter than the ones in my hometown,” Akira chuckles. “There’s just something about this place I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t know, I’m probably not making sense.”

“You don’t always have to.”

He doesn’t know why he bothers to keep the conversation going, but Akira’s always had that power over him.

“You didn’t ask me why I’m not wearing my glasses,” Akira points out. “Even though I was reading a book just now.”

“You never needed them,” Akechi shrugs. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“I figured you would,” Akira hums. “I threw them away. On the train back from Tokyo.”

“People tend to get rid of stuff they no longer need.”

They remain silent for a moment.

“I kept your glove,” Akira meets his eyes. “Even now, I have it in my room.”

“You didn’t know you were going to find me here,” Akechi says slowly. “And yet, you have the glove with you.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a fool,” Akechi snorts. “Throw it away. Burn it if it makes you feel better.”

Akira gently touches the top of Akechi’s hand, making him shiver. “You said you didn’t forget our promise. And you’re not wearing your gloves.”

“You’d want me to wear gloves in this heat? Gloves are just gloves – I was just being petty and pretentious.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Akira pulls away. His hand is still burning where Akira touched him. “I meant I’ve never touched your bare hands.”

“Why would you?”

“Why would I indeed?” Akira muses, turning his eyes towards the night sky as if noticing it for the first time. It took him a while to get used to the stars after spending so much time in Tokyo. Akechi can’t help but stare at their reflection in Akira’s eyes.

“It’s easier when you don’t know what exactly it is you’re missing,” he says. “Wanting things just makes it more painful.”

“Talking from your own experience, detective?”

Akechi sighs. Why is talking to Akira so emotionally draining? “Don’t call me that. Are you just going to sit here, or will you stop fucking around and tell me what’s your angle?”

“I don’t have an angle.”

“You talk about how happy you are to see me alive, and then you avoid me for a week. You barely speak. Are you going to drop the considerate act and tell me what’s going on?”

“You wanted me to leave you alone.”

“Never stopped you before.”

“And here I thought it used to be your job to read people.”

“Well, I got fired.”

Akira looks torn as if he’s slowly calculating the cost of everything he wants to say. When he finally speaks, his voice remains steady and collected. “I’m wondering if I ruined your life again by coming here. As I said, I had no idea I’d find you here. I talked to some people about you, and I don’t know, it seems you’re… Somewhat getting better. As much as you can, at least.”

“But what I saw in the garden was pure fear. You really didn’t want to see me. I feel like I intruded on something important, saw something I wasn’t meant to see. Sometimes it’s wrong to pry, and prying is all I’ve been doing ever since I came to Tokyo.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing. “Our fates are no longer connected, despite all the weird circumstances that led to our meeting. I’ll give you your glove black. As you said, we don’t owe each other anything.”

“Don’t flatter yourself by thinking you have that much power over me, _Joker_.”

Akira actually laughs at the nickname. “Perhaps I’m overthinking things. But I really meant it when I said it wasn’t my intention to be an intruder. You definitely acted like I was one. In any case, I hope it will all work out as long as I’m here, and then you’ll get to forget about me soon after. I won’t be here that long anyway. It sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, but I really just want you to get better.”

Something in Akechi’s chest twitches at that. “How long are you staying?”

“A month. There’s going to be a summer festival by the end of my stay, and I want to help the locals with that too. And I guess it’s always fun to see the fireworks.”

“The fireworks…”

Akechi doesn’t remember the last time he didn’t spend a holiday at work. Or working on a case from his home, even if he did have a day off. He never had an interest in such things, or friends to go with. He hated crowds anyway.

“I want to carry the mikoshi,” Akira says suddenly. “I’ve actually never done that before, have you?”

As always, Akira manages to find a way to make him feel dumbfounded.

“I can’t say I have.”

“It’s supposed to be fun, the way they do things around here,” Akira grins excitedly, clearly having done his research. “I heard they carry it into the sea at dawn for purification since the sea is so close. Do you want to come with me?”

Purification and Akechi seem like two words that shouldn’t appear in the same sentence. “I don’t know, I might be busy.”

“I heard you like physical work,” Akira points out, thorough as ever. “And the mikoshi is really heavy. You know, they say you’re not a real man until you carry one. And if you carry it long enough, your muscle tissue will get all weird too.”

“I don’t care about being manly,” Akechi snorts. “I just like being occupied.”

“I know how that feels.”

He doesn’t ask what Akira means by that.

“I’ll be leaving the next day after the festival,” Akira says. “You owe me a good farewell since we didn’t really get to say goodbye last time.”

“I thought we didn’t owe each other anything.”

“Okay, then do me a favor. Even you’re capable of one.”

He should say no. He shouldn’t let Akira get any closer than he already did.

“I’ll think about it,” he ends up saying.

* * *

They work well together, they always did.

The fence repair comes along smoothly, everyone praising their hard work. Akechi always liked compliments, even if he’s not willing to admit it. He pretends not to see Akira’s sly grin whenever he gets flustered.

He ends up spending more time with Akira, just talking or bickering over the dinner table. He ignores the surprised looks he gets from the staff, fully realizing that he never spoke during a meal since he got here. He can’t say he said anything to anyone unless directly addressed.

Akira reads a lot, Akechi notices. He hasn’t read a single book since leaving Tokyo. Somehow the thought hasn’t even occurred to him, as he kept trying to find ways to kill time. He used to read a lot in his _other_ life, but back then he only cared about impressing adults with his knowledge. He had no one left to impress now. He doesn’t even know what he’s interested in anymore.

“Maybe try reading something for pleasure?” Akira suggests, sitting under a large tree in the garden. Most of the time Akechi accompanies him, just reading over his shoulder with a bored expression. “Something light? It doesn’t need to be anything groundbreaking.”

“I honestly don’t feel like reading.”

“Maybe write then?” Akira smiles gently. “I can imagine you writing mystery novels with your experience. It could prove to be quite cathartic.”

He can’t bring himself to be annoyed, even if he wanted to be.

“I feel like I’m past cathartic,” he says simply. Akira doesn’t fight him.

For the first time since he came to the center, time flies unforgivingly fast. Before he knows it, Akira’s stay is coming to an end, as everyone around them prepares for the festival.

“This is for you,” Akira hands him a happi coat. It’s white, same as Akira’s – somehow it seems ill-fitting for them both. “You are coming with me, right?”

“You already brought me this thing, you don’t really care about my answer,” he points out. “It’s not like we have anything better to do with the fence job done.”

Akira doesn’t hide his grin.

The festival is supposed to start right before the sunrise. Akechi took a short nap earlier in the day and finds himself unable to fall asleep now. Maybe he really should reconsider reading. He could also try to raise enough money to get himself a bike.

Akechi dumbly realizes he never tried making plans before.

Eventually, he gives up on sleeping, putting on clothes Akira prepared for him earlier, checking out his reflection in the mirror, and looking just as ridiculous as he expected.

He waits patiently, one eye on the clock.

When it’s time, Akira’s already waiting for him outside, and the fact that he looks just as bad as Akechi is his only comfort as they make their way towards the small town. It’s a very long walk since the festival is supposed to start at the beach, but they manage to pass time by making fun of each other the entire way there. It feels natural, and Akechi realizes that he never really got a chance to just be around Akira. They were always busy playing their mind games, discussing the Phantom Thieves, or Akechi’s past. They’ve always been comfortable around each other, but they never got to just _talk_.

Akechi wonders if he ever truly talked to anyone in his life without a hidden agenda, but his mind’s drawing a blank.

He almost wishes they’d never reach their destination.

“I think we’re close,” Akira says as if reading his thoughts.

In the town, everyone’s already awake, getting ready to celebrate with the sunrise. Akira gets them some of the festival food, and Akechi never ate fried chicken so early – it feels almost wrong, but he allows himself to enjoy the atmosphere, even if he’s intimidated by the sheer amount of people gathered in one place.

“We should go to the beach,” he decides, once Akira finishes his food.

_Before I change my mind._

The mikoshi is even heavier than he expected, and the crow only grows thicker.

The men he’s never met before are screaming fixed phrases that no longer hold any meaning, except for making them all feel like a part of _something_. Akechi could never relate to the sense of community that everyone seemed to be going on about, having successfully dodged all attempts to be pulled into school festivals, or other celebrations that could involve being around other people. He did what he had to uphold his fake celebrity persona, but he liked avoiding such things when it could be helped.

And yet, in this crowd, despite not being especially religious himself, he ends up feeling _connected_. Something the work at the center was never able to give him. None of these people really cared about whatever was inside the heavy shrine they were carrying, as long as it was being carried. And even if just for a split moment, he does feel some presence, pushing them all through towards the common goal and into the sea.

It gets even more hectic then, the crowd pushing and stumbling, laughing as more people trip over their own feet, splashing water everywhere. He realizes his hair is already dripping, despite not being submerged himself, and the weight of mikoshi is even harder to bear on his wet exposed skin. He’s surrounded by strangers, who somehow are happy to share it with him, telling him to do his best just for a little while longer.

He looks around, catching the eyes of the one person he wants to see at this moment.

Akira’s laughing, his clothes completely drenched, and the rising sun reflecting off the droplets of seawater in his hair. He realizes he never really saw him laugh – there were smiles, and grins, all part of the little game they were playing since the very day they shook hands for the first time.

In that crowd, no one can hear them. No one can see them, no one’s paying attention to who he is, or where he came from. He could probably tell everyone around him he was once a famous detective on TV, and a hitman hired by someone who used to be the most powerful man in this country, and no one would take him seriously if they heard him at all.

Not being heard at all is strangely liberating to someone who spent all his life trying to get adults to listen to what he’s saying.

So Akechi laughs, laughs until he feels like his lungs are about to burst, laughs as the water washes his body in his very own ritual of cleansing.

At that moment, he’s not bothered by his bad memories, burying them somewhere under the waves.

“You had fun,” Akira points out. It almost sounds like an accusation.

They’re walking through the now mostly empty beach. He completely lost track of time at the festival. The sun has already set, the exhaustion slowly hitting all his senses. He vaguely realizes he’s probably been awake for more than 24 hours. He used to do that a lot, but his body no longer takes these things so well. And yet, he feels strangely light, as if he managed to drown whatever burden he carried in the sea.

The voices of people slowly die down somewhere behind them. They’re alone, their footprints disappearing in the sand, as they’re eaten away by calm waves of the sea.

“It was a good experience,” he admits, albeit reluctantly. “Though it does feel like my arm will never be the same after.”

“It will pass,” Akira’s rubbing on his own shoulder. “Or so I hear. I think I’m still half-deaf from all the screaming, though.”

They keep walking in silence, Akira’s hand brushing against his own in a way that certainly isn’t accidental. He lets himself enjoy it. For a moment, Akechi feels like a normal person – someone who deserves all the human experiences that life has to offer.

“The fireworks are about to start,” Akira says. “Do you want to sit down to watch them?”

“I feel like I won’t be able to get up if I do,” he replies, unable to fight a yawn. He doesn’t ask why it makes Akira smile. “I might just fall asleep on the beach.”

“Sleeping in public areas? And they called me a delinquent.”

Whatever witty retort Akechi had in mind is interrupted by the fireworks, blowing over their heads. He doesn’t expect them to be this noisy, having only heard them from the inside of his apartment. His startled jump makes Akira laugh, and he can’t bring himself to feel offended, as a memory, another one he’s buried deep inside of his mind resurfaces under the night sky, just when he thought he was done having flashbacks.

It’s a nice memory for once.

His mom is leaning over the balcony, a strange nostalgia on her face as she looks at the fireworks. He’s with her, holding the railing in his small hands, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look. She laughs at his poor attempts and she lifts him with ease, pointing at the sky. She says something then, but he can’t hear her through the sound of the fireworks.

“Are you okay?” Akira asks.

He’s vaguely aware of his eyes watering. He doesn’t feel like sharing, so he blinks whatever he was feeling away. “Yeah, it’s just bright. I forgot how bright they were without the city lights.”

“One good thing about the countryside,” Akira admits. “No light pollution. I’m almost sad to be leaving tomorrow. I might end up missing the quiet.”

Something inside him breaks.

He looks at Akira helplessly, and Akira immediately stops talking. He needs answers. He needs someone to name whatever it is that he’s feeling. He needs something to deafen the constant noise surrounding him, to stop the constant buzzing under his skin.

Akira’s answer is a kiss.

Like all of his first-time experiences so far, it’s awkward. He parts his lips mostly out of shock than anything else, as Akira wraps arms around his neck. At first, he’s not sure what to do, so he tries to copy Akira’s movements as their noses bump against each other more than once. He’s a little sloppy, Akira clearly being the more experienced one, as he slowly leads him through the kiss.

Akechi hates not being good at things right off the bat – he’s always been this way, and he can’t help but feel bothered by it even now. It adds some layer of frustration to the kiss and some tension that definitely didn’t make things easy for either of them. Then again, things never really were easy for them in the first place.

And yet, Akira doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t laugh at him. If anything, he seems to be enjoying himself. He’s making needy sounds that make something flip in Akechi’s stomach, and so he pulls Akira closer, their teeth clashing against each other. There are hands on his cheeks, warm and tender, and a part of him wants to shake them off, while the other all but melts under the touch. He opens his mouth wider and somehow that deepens the kiss, so he allows Akira’s tongue inside, his own hands reaching under Akira’s tank top and all over his naked back.

He can no longer escape from the fire that spreads through his body as if his own skin became covered in the fireworks.

Just for a second, Akechi feels alive.

* * *

“Do you think it’s okay for me to spend the night in your room?” Akira asks.

They’re in front of the center, neither of them courageous enough to go back in. The firework show is over, and Akira somehow managed to get them a ride from a stranger back to the center, but it seems like everyone already got back before they did.

Akechi can’t stop looking at Akira’s kiss swollen lips, as he forces his brain to think straight. “Probably not. But I don’t care if you do.”

“I just feel like it’ll all be gone tomorrow,” Akira presses his forehead against his own. “And I want you to stay happy just a little longer.”

Happy.

Is this what he’s feeling? Is this the reason why he can’t bring himself to push Akira away?

Is this what Akira was feeling?

“Then what’s the point of spending the night together?”

“We don’t need to do anything. I just want to…” Akira looks at him desperately as he searches for answers on his own. “Is it okay for me to want things?”

Akechi actually chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

“I don’t want to make you worse by doing this to you.”

“There’s nothing you can do to me that will make things worse than they already are.”

“I can still steal your heart.”

A part of him wants to get angry again. A part of him wants to laugh it off, maybe make a snarky comment about Akira’s dumb remark.

“Are _you_ happy?” He asks instead.

“Do you want the cheesy version or the down-to-earth version?”

“The one that’s true.”

“Cheesy it is then,” Akira gives him a strange look. He’d known Akira for some time, and he saw different sides of him. Still, Akira’s the one person he could never read, and every time he thinks he has him cornered, there’s always another side of him that takes him by surprise.

“I’ve been happy ever since I spotted you from that bus.”

Akechi doesn’t laugh.

He takes Akira’s hand as they sneak through the hallways. Their shadows melt into one another, and if anyone saw them that night, they’d likely both be kicked out by the morning. Yet they don’t see a single living soul and hear no sounds as if the time stopped upon entering the building. The moment he opens the door to his room, there are hands on him, and he allows them to explore his willing body, no longer feeling like he’s going to crawl out of his own skin with every touch.

He feels like, within a few months, he’s getting all first-time experiences crossed off from his list one by one. A list he didn’t even know he was keeping.

They strip naked, out of curiosity more than desire. They’re too tired and too awkward to experiment further, not to mention being completely unprepared. In the end, they kiss for a long time, rutting their bodies against one another, Akira’s skin all but glowing in the moonlight. They want things from each other, but they’re not sure where to look just yet. So they end up exploring, maybe just a bit more hectic than planned, losing themselves in the feeling of their bodies simply being close.

When they come, they’re both almost silent, too afraid to make a sound as they place their hands over each other’s mouths, Akira’s teeth grazing Akechi’s palm. As if whatever spell they were under could burst like a bubble upon the most delicate noise. They fall asleep soon after, their bodies just a few inches apart just to make sure they don’t grow too attached.

When Akechi wakes up in the morning, Akira’s already gone. For the first time in ages, he doesn’t linger when getting out of bed. He feels desperate to run out of his room to search for him, but for some reason, he feels like Akira’s already miles away.

There’s a note on his desk with a phone number. It doesn’t say anything else.

* * *

It’s been a year since he last saw Akira.

Most nights, he keeps himself awake, unable to sleep as the silence rings through his ears, more insistent than ever. More and more, he finds himself agreeing with Akira – everything about this place was too quiet. Missing the city and, most of all, missing Akira gnaws at him from the inside, like a nasty parasite taking hold over his body.

He lost weight.

He can barely bring himself to do his usual job anymore, and it pisses him off that no one seems to give a shit. He wants people to get angry with him. He wants people to tell him to pull it together. He wants someone to tell him to do his job.

He wants to find the courage to make a single phone call.

It’s the nights he hates the most, always plagued by the same thoughts – did Akira move back to Tokyo? Did he get into the university he wanted? Does he live in Leblanc, or did he end up rooming with one of the Phantom Thieves?

Is he happy? Did he find the answers to his own questions?

Does he regret what happened that night?

He feels childish, discovering feelings that were long obvious to everyone else in the world except for him. He has no one to talk to about them either, so he’s letting the intensity of his emotions eat away at him from the inside, more and more each day.

He feels strangely sensitive to everything surrounding him. All noises seem louder, silence quieter, and lights brighter – he can never rest, stuck between his own stupid thoughts, annoyed by everything and everyone. Most of all, he is tired.

Akechi forces himself to get out of the room.

He passes through the loud dining hall, he passes through the entrance to the garden, and all the places haunted by Akira’s ghost. He finally comes to a halt in front of the front door, unsure why he came here in the first place. The corridor is empty save for a single girl, one of the new volunteers, who’s cleaning windows, humming along as a familiar song plays on the radio.

He quickly realizes the reason why he was drawn to that place.

“That song!”

He doesn’t realize he said it out loud until the girl looks at him with a slightly anxious expression on her face. She seems too unsure of how to react.

“Can you tell me what the song is?” He asks harshly.

The girl actually jumps, clearly surprised by his abrupt question. She looks around, terrified as if trying to make sure he’s speaking to her, and not somebody else. “You mean on the radio? It used to be popular a long time ago...”

Someone’s clearing his throat behind him. He turns around to look at the very same woman who helped him and his mother a long time ago.

“Akechi-kun, we need to talk.”

He lets himself be led to her office, feeling more resigned than uncomfortable. He’s only been there once, that faithful night in December when he had nowhere else to go.

Amused, he realizes that he can’t even really be fired. He never officially worked here in the first place – he was just a long-term volunteer. He knows full well she can kick him out, yet the thought strangely doesn’t bother him.

He sits down when asked to do so and says no when she offers him coffee.

“You already know what I’m about to say,” she states as she sits down at the chair across from him.

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “You kept me here long enough. And for that I am grateful.”

“You don’t seem too upset,” she notices. “I think it’s because you already got everything you wanted out of this place. You no longer need shelter.”

“How are you so sure?”

“This place is for people who have nowhere to turn to,” she says with a curious smile on her face. “The reason you’re suffering is that you do have a place you can go to now, and you choose to remain trapped right here because you feel like you don’t deserve any better.”

“That’s none of your business,” he replies harshly, quickly dropping his fake polite act. “You really need to stop your prying.”

“Perhaps,” she agrees. “But you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my prying. Your mother was the same as you, I remember her well – always feeling like she’s on the run, never willing to accept help. Until that one time she did.”

“And look where it got her,” he says bitterly.

“You’re not your mother,” she says seriously. “You’re not your father, you’re not _their_ sins. And if you don’t want to help yourself, that’s your decision. But I think that boy might be suffering, too.”

Would you look at her, ever the deux ex machina.

“All of you seem to be under the wrong impression that I have any influence on other people’s lives,” he counters, already losing his temper. “I’m not a good person and I never cared to be one. I haven’t even planned my life beyond my early twenties, because I expected to be dead after carrying out my revenge. I’m honestly just looking for things to fill up my time before I kick the bucket.”

She looks completely unimpressed by his outburst. “We all do. Feeling this way doesn’t make you special, I’m sorry to say.”

“Thank you for the uplifting talk,” he sneers. “Just say you don’t want me here and I’ll go pack my shit.”

“It’s you who doesn’t want to be here. You’re suffocating, Goro.”

He flinches at the use of his first name.

“I can’t ever be happy,” Akechi says. “There is no happiness for people like me. I don’t have a purpose, the only reason I was still alive was taken from me. I don’t have my revenge, I don’t have a family, all I have is one person who took pity on me because they take pity on literally everyone they meet.”

“You mistake kindness for pity.”

“Kindness,” he repeats like it’s a profanity. “Right.”

The gears inside his brain keep on turning, trying to find any excuse just to be contrary. “Even if I did go back, what do you expect me to do? How do I even begin to make amends for what I’ve done? If I’m being honest, I’m not even sure I’m sorry. So what do I do? Anything clever you can say to that? Or will you tell me to live because it’s what my mother would have wanted? She’s dead. She doesn’t want anything.”

“I don’t know what you should do,” she tells him simply. “Just try to live.”

It’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. But he feels like it’s pointless to say that.

He stands up and forces himself to bow. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Thank you for taking care of me once again. And thank you for taking care of my mother back then.”

“It’s you who took care of us. Thank you for your hard work. That fence will serve us for a long time.”

Akechi’s already one foot out the door when she stops him again, “Goro.”

He turns around, half-expecting another life lesson he doesn’t care to hear. But he gets none.

“That song you’ve heard… Of course, you know it. Your mother used to sing it all the time, when she was here with you, after all.”

* * *

He doesn’t know why he texts Akira on the train.

There’s no reply, it’s very possible he already changed his number since then.

One year ago, Akira called himself an intruder, and for the first time in his life, Akechi is able to tell that what he’s feeling is guilt.

Intruder, he repeats in his own head over and over. Isn’t it what he is now? If Akira already moved on, he’s likely to ruin the peace he managed to establish. Akechi never cared about anyone but himself, at least not consciously. And yet, some undiscovered part of him for the first time wants to take care of someone.

He wants to be needed. He wants to feel important. He wants to care for someone who once cared for him.

But was there anything left he could give? He’s twenty years old, he has no money, no family, and likely no future to speak of, given his record. He doesn’t know how long he’ll last until his next breakdown if he won’t go back running where he came from with his tail tucked between his legs.

Why would Akira still want him back after all this time, when he never as much as called?

He feels stupid. If he could get off the train now, he would.

His phone buzzes. Akira’s message is just as simple as the note he left on that desk. It’s an address in Tokyo.

By the time he reaches the apartment complex, he no longer feels nervous.

Whatever Akira feels, whatever he has to say, it would all be over soon. Even if he closes the door on him, Akechi will be presented with a clear answer. And for now, it’s the only thing he needs.

He’ll have to worry about everything else later, once he gets out of here.

When he knocks on Akira’s door, he doesn’t hesitate. He can all but brace himself for the blow that might or might not be coming. In the end, there wasn’t anything left to be taken from him.

The door opens.

Akira doesn’t slam the door on him, which seems encouraging enough.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” is the first thing he says. He doesn’t ask Akechi to come in, unsure of his intentions. He just watches him, unmoving, his face completely emotionless.

“I didn’t know myself,” he admits.

Akira looks at him expectantly, anticipating every word he’s about to say. And yet no words come to mind. He recalls trying to impress Akira the first time they met, a memory so distant that it could have happened in a different life.

His new life requires a new offering, and he has nothing left to give but himself.

“My name is Goro Akechi,” he lowers his head in greeting. “Please take care of me.”

Sometimes the simplest words can set your entire world in motion.

And so Akira moves, quiet and cautious, like the thief he is.

Akechi can feel Akira’s lips ghost over the top of his lowered head, and even an arm sneaks behind his back to hold him, he forces himself to stay completely still.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Just this once, he lets himself be carried away.

___

_“Over and over, we begin again.”_

**Author's Note:**

> All quotes in the story come from "Kitchen" by Banana Yoshimoto. 
> 
> The song that inspired the fic shows up in the same book, and you can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7GkC_uPbfwE), translation of the lyrics provided in the comments.
> 
> Depression is a personal topic for me, so I ended up struggling a lot throughout the work. I promised myself some time ago to never write a lot about Akechi's mother, and here I come to eat my own words. The title and the fic are as much about the love she might have had for her child, and the love Akechi has for Akira - because I'm pretentious and I like making myself feel sad.
> 
> I'm avoiding mentioning the name of the shelter where Akechi is staying - your guess is as good as mine. I found it would be easier if I left it to your imagination. 
> 
> As always, I'm happy to receive feedback! Find me on [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/akihmorn)


End file.
